Stevie Kennedy-Gold

October 1, 2021 by wpengine

Sharing Shipping Space with Amphibians and Reptiles

by Stevie Kennedy-Gold

Your online orders of clothes and household goods might well have shared shipping space alongside preserved toads and snakes from the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Don’t worry though – museum specimens are shipped following long-established rules and regulations, and the movement of herpetological freight is all in the service of science.

Wait, what?! Well, at a relatively low, but steady rate, natural history museums loan out specimens, and these materials are generally shipped, outgoing and incoming, via regular commercial carriers.

Why loan out a specimen?! Why, to ask and answer awesome scientific questions, to enhance an exhibit, or to use as artistic references! Just as every human has a story unique to their own life and experiences, etched in their wrinkles, freckles, and scars, the same is true for every specimen in the collection. Each frog and lizard, snake and turtle has experienced different environmental impacts, endured famine, parasites, pollution, or predation. Each specimen has its own story. Instead of being written down within the pages of a book, the animals’ stories are recorded within their muscles, organs, bones, and DNA. As such, an eastern fence lizard collected from Pennsylvania in 1893 will likely have a different body size, diet, or parasite load compared to the same species of lizard collected from the same town in 2005.

Scientists request loans from museum collections so that they can examine the specimens, unlock the stories hidden in each body, and answer their scientific questions. Alternatively, we receive requests from artists needing reference materials for their newest works of art, or to more accurately render images of a species they would otherwise not be able to see up close (I’m looking at you, venomous snakes, highly toxic frogs, or now extinct species!). And, of course, museums themselves loan from collections to use in displays as representatives of the far larger number of specimens housed behind-the-scenes. Walk through Dinosaurs in their Time towards Cenozoic – those bones can be considered as an inter-building loan from our Vertebrate Paleontology collection. Head up to the Foster Overlook and check out our hellbender who choked on a marshmallow – that specimen is certainly an inter-building loan from the collection I manage.

But how exactly are specimen loans arranged? The process varies from institution to institution and from section to section, so this description is the process specific to the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles at this museum. Overall, though, the process is a great deal easier than it would seem. Assuming a borrower knows what species to work with, a search of the Section’s online presence at iDigBio or VertNet will determine the specific specimens to request. After that, a formal request letter is required. This document must include details of borrower affiliation, the species and specimens requested, and the reason behind the request along with any planned examination techniques. The next step in the procedure is an email directed to me through the museum website (here), again providing a brief description of the borrower’s intent.

Table with specimen jars, paper, a metal tray, gloves, and other tools for herpetology work. — Image 1: Prepping a loan of anoles for a researcher. In the foreground are lists of specimen preferences from the researcher and specimens in the collection which fit the criteria.

Assuming a request is reasonable (i.e., doesn’t involve the complete destruction of the specimen!), I then begin pulling the requested specimens from the collection, placing tiny loan slips in each jar as I go as place holders signifying the specimen’s loaned status (Image 1). The slip has the specimen’s catalog number, the loan number, and the requester. Paper trails are vital in loaning specimens. I also make a notation in my fancy new Loan database, as well as in the general Herp Section Specimen database. Finally, I draft up the loan contract which will be sent out with the specimens. I then wrap the specimens in cheesecloth (Images 2 and 3), give them a good soaking in alcohol, triple bag and heat seal them in, and slap the appropriate documentation on and in the box. The package then goes off to the mailroom!

Specimen jar and herpetology specimens laid on cheesecloth. — Image 2: Laying out the specimens on cheesecloth in preparation for shipping. A loan slip can be seen behind the cup on the right side of the image.

Woman wrapping a specimen in cheesecloth — Image 3: Charlotte, a recent intern in the section, helps package up a loan of toads.

Once someone has completed their work with the specimens, they normally notify me and ship the specimens back as soon as possible. Assuming all the specimens are returned in good order, the loan is closed, the specimens are returned to the collection, the slips of paper are pulled from the jars, and the specimens once again become available for other people to use.

Unfortunately, some specimen loans, like library books, become overdue. A typical loan duration is 6 months, at the end of which the borrower can request a loan extension (much like requesting an extension on a library book) or they can send the specimens back. If the loan period elapses without any communication, I don my imaginary “Lizard Librarian” hat and kindly request their return as soon as possible.

Due to the size of this collection, the responsibilities of a collection manager, the number of loans we send out annually (some years over 40!), and the recent (with respect to the general age of the collection) technological adoptions within the Section (i.e., creating digital databases), it is not surprising that the retrieval of some loans lapsed, and even the documentation of some specimen locations is unclear. As a result, I recently took it upon myself, with the aid of my fearless and tireless group of interns, work study students, and volunteers, to determine the “active status” for all loans sent out since 1925 (the earliest recorded loan in the section). We have nearly 2000 loan records to look through, but fortunately my predecessors did a decent job tracking when a loan was returned or when contact was made to request the specimens be returned.

It’s a long arduous process making sure that all the specimens are back. Initially, our search to verify if the specimen was returned begins with the jars containing species from the location where the borrowed specimen was collected. This process takes time, and the pace is contingent upon how many specimens were requested per loan and how many specimens (and jars!) of a specific species from a specific place we have in the collection. For example, tracking the whereabouts of a loan of 50 eastern newts from Pennsylvania has taken us a few weeks because we have nearly 20 jars of newts from the state, each containing at least 100 specimens.

Jars of amphibians and reptiles preserved in fluid

If we emerge empty handed after examining all the jars of a specific species from a specific place, we then look in jars containing the same species collected from other locations. This process has resulted in finding almost 10 specimens previously deemed “missing” – some since the 1960s! On top of this process, we also record the catalogue number of every specimen in every jar we examine so we can update the jar labels with the specimen numbers (Image 4). This expedites finding specific specimens in the future and ensures that all specimens are placed in their correct jars. It’s a true labor of love and the process is a museum collection equivalent of an (ultra-ULTRA) marathon, not a sprint. When it all boils down though, I am just a librarian making sure that all my books (or specimens!) are where they ought to be.

Stevie Kennedy-Gold is the Collection Manager for the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

Who is the bigger fool – the fool or the fool that falls for it?

by Stevie Kennedy-Gold

The start of April only means one thing – pranks galore thanks to April Fools Day! Ok, ok, I realize that’s not necessarily true as April also marks that spring has sprung, many small critters are emerging from their hibernations, and we celebrate, among other things, Earth Day and Arbor Day. But we can all agree that April usually starts with a load of laughs, some fibs, and some fools. In the animal kingdom, however, fooling isn’t regulated to one day. In fact, many amphibians and reptiles rely on their ability to fool both predators and prey to survive.

Masters of Disguise

Fig. 1: Because of the large blotches on their backs, people often confuse the nonvenomous gopher snakes with venomous rattlesnakes. Gopher snakes play into this confusion, however, by imitating rattlesnake behaviors.

One of the oldest tricks in the book when it comes to fooling another is to transform to look like someone, or something, else. Although herpetofauna lack access to theatrical wardrobes teeming with makeup and outfits, they evolved behaviors and physical attributes that allow them to imitate other things. The gopher snake (Pituophis catenifer, Fig. 1), for instance, is a totally harmless colubrid species found across the western and middle United States and into Canada. They are beautiful animals, having splotches of gold, reddish-brown, and black along their bodies, and, due to these colorations, are often mistaken for rattlesnakes. What’s more, when spooked, gopher snakes tend to flatten their heads, coil into a strike position, and quickly sway their tails to and fro, a rattlesnake imitation that includes a realistic sound component when it occurs in dry grass. Most snakes are solitary animals and prefer to avoid conflict and avoid expending energy in get-away attempts, so scaring away potential predators through imitation is preferred over fighting and biting. Often times, this imitation works, and potential predators leave the gopher snake alone.

three horned frog specimens on a white tray with glass jars in the background

Fig. 2: Smooth horned frog (*Proceratophrys boiei*) specimens in the collection. Although the points above their eyes have been distorted due to preservation, it is clear to see how these frogs used their coloration, patterning, and morphological features to blend into leaf litter on the forest floor.

Predictably, snakes are not the only masters of disguise. Many frog species have unique morphological features that allow them to resemble other items in nature. The dark brown coloration and the points above the eyes of the smooth horned frog (Proceratophrys boiei) give it the appearance of a leaf (Fig. 2), allowing it to blend seamlessly into the forest floor and enabling it to both evade predators and ambush prey. Similarly, the entirely aquatic Suriname toad (Pipa pipa) looks like a dead leaf in the water due to its brown coloration and flattened body. Unless you’re an omnivore that prefers dead, low-nutrition leaves, the imitation tactics of these frogs improves their chances of survival and fools any prey items not clever enough to see past their disguises.

Deceptive Practices

Not all imitations are meant to help an animal blend in. Sometimes, imitations serve “nefarious” intents. Although not apparent to an outside observer, alligator snapping turtles (Macrochelys temminckii) have a sneaky tactic to lure prey directly into their mouth. The tongues of these turtles evolved a vestigial piece of flesh, called a lingual lure, to protrude from the tip. Alligator snapping turtles will sit on the bottom of lakes and rivers and open their powerful jaws to reveal this pink bit of flesh. They then move the lingual lure around to make it look like a tasty worm, fooling unsuspecting fish right into their giant maws.

Spider-tailed horned vipers (Pseudocerastes urarachnoides), a species endemic to Iran, employ a similar tactic, albeit far more noticeably to the casual observer. Admittedly, the common name of this animal gives away the punch line, but, nonetheless, this species of viper evolved to have a unique tail. Much like how a rattlesnakes’ rattle is made of modified scales, the spider-tailed horned viper’s tail scales evolved so that the last few scales bulge out into a small bubble and the scales leading up to that bulge are heavily keeled, or ridged. While keeled scales are common in most species in the Viperidae family, the keeling on these tail scales is extremely exaggerated, making the scales look like long spikes, or even legs. When you combine the long, keeled scales with the large, posterior bulge, the tail of a spider-tailed horned viper actually looks like a spider! With the snakes speckled coloration allowing it to blend into surrounding rocks and a solid tail wiggle performance, the snake’s tail looks like a tasty spider lunch to unsuspecting birds… which then become lunch for the snake. Imitation is the best form of flattery… or maybe a reliable way to fill your belly!

Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

Whereas some reptiles and amphibians are the masters of disguise, allowing them to hide from predators or to lure unsuspecting prey, other herps use subtler bodily alterations to fool potential prey, predators, and even conspecifics (animals of the same species). Take, for example, color changes. Chameleons often come to mind at any mention of lizard color changes, but it is actually a misconception that chameleons perfectly blend into their surroundings, mimicking every leaf and twig in the background. In truth, chameleons and many other lizard species change colors to improve thermoregulation and to communicate with conspecifics – males signaling to females that they’re ready to mate, or relying on darker colors to demonstrate aggression. There are, however, some species of frogs that do lighten or darken their hue to blend into their surroundings. The gray treefrog (Hyla versicolor) is present across most of the eastern and middle United States and, as its name implies, is an arboreal species. Because it spends its time among green leaves and gray-brown tree trunks and branches, the gray treefrog has evolved the ability to change its body coloration so it can blend in perfectly with the substrate upon which it perches. If it is on a bright green leaf, the frog will shift to a green hue. Upon landing on a mossy rock or a lichen-crusted tree trunk, the frog will change to a more gray, blotched hue instead. One second, you can see the animal perfectly and, in the next, it has completely melted away into its surroundings.

Leaving Something Behind

Other herpetofauna use more exuberant tactics to evade capture. Unlike the camouflage-wielding gray treefrog, many lizard and salamander species will self-autotomize their tails to avoid being eaten. In these instances, the herp has already been seen (or, worse, caught by a herpetologist!) and needs a quick getaway. Running away without a distraction means that the predator will likely give chase and possibly capture the lizard or salamander. However, by self-autotomizing – or breaking off – their tails, these animals increase their chances of escaping. This drastic tactic is effective because the tail continues to wriggle around and move once detached from the animals’ body, making it a tasty and easy to grab meal! Many predators become distracted by the tail, leaving the lizard or salamander free to make its escape. Interestingly, this behavior is not strictly regulated to predator attacks. I witnessed a prolonged aggressive battle between two male western fence lizards (Sceloporus occidentalis), where one male lost his tail and, instead of leaving it to writhe on the ground and eventually decompose, the lizard (attempted) to make a hasty, grapple-filled retreat from the other male, all while holding his detached tail in his mouth! Although this seems morbid, it’s actually quite clever – tails require a lot of energy and resources to make, but then the appendage stores energy in the form of meat and fat. This male fence lizard was likely keeping hold of his old tail so that he could later consume it and regain those resources. And, don’t worry, most salamander and lizard species can regrow their autotomized tails (Fig. 3), an ability that many herpetologists take advantage of when we need tissue for genetic studies.

Fig. 3: Example of tail loss and regrowth in a female *Anolis carolinensis* (green anole). The red arrows points at the old break point, and you can see how the tail color differs in the new growth.

The list of herpetofaunal imitators and imposters, pranksters and fibbers goes on and on. Although these disguises and imitations aren’t meant to make other animals giggle and laugh as our April Fool’s Day pranks often do, these tactics allow these reptiles and animals to live another day, evade unwanted attention, or snag a tasty meal. But, at the end of the day, it really does beg the question… who is the bigger fool – the fool or the fool that falls for it?

Stevie Kennedy-Gold is the collection manager for the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

A Head Above the Rest: Unearthing the Story of Our Leatherback Sea Turtle

When you think of BIG sea creatures, you probably imagine great white sharks, huge blue whales, or ginormous cephalopods like the giant squid (or, for the more imaginative, the Kraken!). But would you believe me if I told you that the ocean is also home to a reptile that grows far larger than a human? Many people are familiar with the “typical” green sea turtle (Chelonia mydas) or even the hawksbill sea turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata), known for its beautifully patterned shell. However, these species are dwarfed in size compared to the leatherback sea turtle (Dermochelys coriacea). Adult leatherback sea turtles are usually 6 to 8 feet long and 550 to 1500 pounds. To put that into context, imagine 3 to 8 adult men of average height and weight huddled together or 8 to 24 Labrador retriever dogs playing about in a group (now THAT would be heavenly!). An animal that big takes up a great deal of room, which is fine in the expansive ocean but is rather problematic if such a turtle is to become a museum research specimen. That is exactly the case with CM 44460, the famous leatherback sea turtle housed in the Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s Section of Amphibians and Reptiles.

Head and esophagus of leatherback sea turtle CM 44460. The esophagus is so large it needed to be split into pieces— the two circles at the lower left and right corners of the tank and the large mass in the top left corner. Leatherback sea turtles lack teeth, and instead rely on spikey protrusions present in their mouths and esophagi to keep down their favorite prey item, jellyfish.

Cast of CM 44460 hanging above visitors in Discovery Basecamp.

When people tour the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles, we make it a point to open one of the first metal tanks our guests see, tank 156. This tank houses a single impressive specimen – the giant head and esophagus of a leatherback sea turtle. I started as the collection manager of the section just under two years ago and, until recently, the only information I had for this specimen were the scant details noted in the section’s database and on a printed sheet attached to the lid of the tank: a fisherman had found the specimen dead when it washed ashore in Maine in 1965. That was it. I knew the entire animal (not just the head) had washed ashore since a cast was made of the body and that replica is now hanging in Discovery Basecamp. I also knew ecological and herpetological information about the species in general, but nearly every specimen in a natural history collection has a story, and I knew this one had to be good… but I didn’t know what it was…

… until I began digitizing the section’s archives.

Let’s take a step away from our leatherback sea turtle specimen to understand what “digitizing the section’s archives” really means. Carnegie Museum of Natural History is over 100 years old, and the herpetology archives date back to the museum’s inception. That means we had, at the time I became involved with the digitizing work, nearly 125 years of correspondence, field notes, specimen data, and collection-related events to clean, scan, and properly organize and house both physically and electronically. (For a more in-depth dive into this archiving process, see section archivist Ren Jordan’s post here.) It took a team of about 10 people (part-time and full-time interns, work-study students, and staff members) over a year to complete this daunting task. The treasure trove of information we unearthed in those archives is priceless, and CM 44460’s story is a treasure worth sharing.

Images from archives showing how staff members prepared CM 44460 to be accessioned into the herpetology collection and displayed to the public. Clockwise from the top left: Herpetology staff members C. J. McCoy and Arthur Bianculli lift the shell onto a cart for transport; Herpetology curator Neil D. Richmond and museum preparator Otto M. Epping measure out the cast of CM 44460 created from the shell and body measurements; Preparator Otto M. Epping and Exhibits staff member Forest Hart removing the shell from a cargo van upon arrival to the Carnegie Museum; Herpetology staff members C. J. McCoy, Arthur Bianculli, and Neil D. Richmond examine the head of CM 44460 in a large potato chip can; Herpetology curator Neil D. Richmond shows the head to museum director M. Graham Netting as another staff member looks on.

black and white photo of three men pulling a turtle head out of a can

Herpetology staff members C. J. McCoy, Arthur Bianculli, and Neil D. Richmond examine the head of CM 44460 in a large potato chip can upon its arrival to the museum (A). The complete description of the image as it appears affixed to the back of the image (B).

During the digitization work, the archival material I processed included the field notes of past-curator Dr. C. J. McCoy, and among his papers was a crumbly old folder labeled “CM 44460” that required rehousing. The number lacked any context for me at the time because the section has over 180,000 catalog (or CM) numbers and, try as I might, I don’t yet have them all memorized. When I pulled out pictures from the folder, though, CM 44460’s identity instantly became apparent, for I found myself looking at the images of our famous leatherback sea turtle. One picture showed the creation of the cast and another depicted the shell being carried by two men due to its size. Another image showed Dr. McCoy crouched with two other men near a huge open tin can labeled “Potato Chips” with, shockingly, the head of dear CM 44460 peeking out of the top. A note affixed to the back of the image read “C. J. McCoy, Arthur Bianculli, & Neil D. Richmond examining head which filled 7-gal. can. 27 Aug. 1965. Leatherback Turtle caught 16 Aug. 1965 off Swan’s Is., Maine by Lobsterman Robert Joyce. Presented to Carnegie Museum by Dave Shelton, Aqualand, Bar Harbor, Maine” (Image 4B). Suddenly pieces of the story were falling into place. This specimen was transported from Maine to Pittsburgh in pieces, with the head arriving separate from the body and shell in a 7-gallon potato chip container!

A couple months later, I unearthed another folder in the archives with data from the specimen. The documents recorded the preservation process of the turtle, including measuring and weighing different organs (knowing that they would be too large to properly preserve and store), and how long it took the head to become fully and properly fixed in formalin. Through these notes, I learned that the turtle was a female measuring 7’5” from the tip of her tail to the tip of her snout, and that her ocean wandering was powered by a flipper-span of 8’4”! Based upon her carapace (the top part of a turtle shell) measuring in at 5’5”, this turtle was likely sexually reproductive and, therefore, rather old. CM 44460’s story is so much clearer now and really goes to show how each specimen in a collection has its own unique history just waiting to be investigated.

Stevie Kennedy-Gold is the collection manager for the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

Do Snakes Believe in the Tooth Fairy?

When a child loses a baby tooth, the Tooth Fairy will sneakily appear a short time later to snatch that tooth up and leave behind a little treat. But what happens when vipers or other snakes with large fangs lose their teeth? I doubt the Tooth Fairy would be too keen about sneaking up on a sleeping snake…and as someone who studies and admires snakes, I would not recommend it!

Vials containing Viperidae snake fangs. The middle vial (with clear lid) contains fangs of the Gaboon viper.

I recently learned the answer to this question when I was given seven tiny vials containing dozens of fangs. These fangs came from various species of snakes in the Viperidae family, including the Mojave green rattlesnake (Crotalus scutulatus), the Northern Pacific rattlesnake (Crotalus oreganus), and the Gaboon viper (Bitis gabonica), which has the longest fangs of any snake species. The researcher who gifted us these fangs was curious about the outcome of shed snake teeth and wanted to determine how frequently snake fangs may be swallowed and passed through the snake’s digestive tract. To answer this question, he dissected and examined dried snake feces for the possible presence of shed fangs.*

As it turns out, snakes will occasionally swallow their shed fangs! Vipers are carnivores that have to hunt down and subdue live prey in order to eat and survive. Often there is a struggle between predator and prey and, in that process, a fang may be wiggled lose. Instead of falling out of a snake’s mouth, the snake may swallow the fang along with the prey item. The fang will ultimately pass through the snake’s digestive system and emerge in its feces.

Pacific rattlesnake (*Crotalus oreganus*) in the Mojave Desert, California. One of the vials contained fangs from this species, but from snakes in the northern portion of the species’ range.

As the collection manager of the Section of Amphibians and Reptiles, I oversee and care for the museum’s massively beautiful and useful collection of cool and creepy herpetofaunal specimens. These specimens include full body wet specimens preserved in alcohol, the osteology collection of bones and turtle shells, and other items such as histology slides, gut contents, and even fangs. Regardless of their preservation form, all the reptile and amphibian specimens within the collection are useful for researchers and could serve to answer future scientific questions. Although the fangs within these seven seemingly unimposing vials have already answered one burning scientific question, they will be added to the collection so see what other answers they can provide!

*Researchers take careful precautions when handling feces as it can carry disease. Do not handle feces you may see in the wild.

Sharing Shipping Space with Amphibians and Reptiles

by Stevie Kennedy-Gold

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Who is the bigger fool – the fool or the fool that falls for it?

Masters of Disguise

Deceptive Practices

Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

Leaving Something Behind

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A Head Above the Rest: Unearthing the Story of Our Leatherback Sea Turtle

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